


Of Monsters and Men

by Mithlomi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:38:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithlomi/pseuds/Mithlomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif is selfish. She does not realise the cost until it is too late...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Monsters and Men

**Author's Note:**

> From an anon prompt and my own musings that perhaps Sif is not as perfect as Loki and I think she is...
> 
> Unfortnately, his reaction to that revelation is a little different to mine...

Sif could not stand another second. Of false smiles and hollow well wishes. Of watching him, them, eyes bright and laughing, his hand forever resting on the small of her back. Sigyn reached up, fingers brushing Loki's cheek as she whispered something in his ear that made him smile and wink, before meeting her lips in a soft kiss...

Sif turned, bolting towards the hall and almost crashing into those around her, in a desperate attempt to get away for anyone noticed her departure. They would not miss her. No one would.

She bailed into the doors across the wide hall, the last rays of warm sunlight hitting her face as she tried to catch a breath through her aching chest. This bloody contraption of a dress wasn't helping, too tight and restricted, forcing her to stand straight, hold her body in a way she was not used just so she could meet the antiquated expectations of tradition and a court that had no time for her. 

Granted, she had little time for them, yet Sif was not a wilting flower that enjoyed sitting in the corner.

Especially today. A day that should have been hers. Just like those kisses. His hand on her back, her breath tickling over his ear...

Sif closed her eyes, pushing away the memories and let out a short, bitter laugh.

She only had herself to blame. 

“Sif?”

Her eyes flew open, although she did not turn around. His voice was ridiculously light. He knew how she would be feeling and he was blantant in his dismissal of it.

She turned slowly, meeting his gaze and giving him a small smile, one he we know to be fake. She could never succeed in picking up his tricks.

“Father and I are about to start the toasts. I would hate for you to miss them...” He made no attempt to hide the sarcastic lilt in his voice. Another rush of pain that made her grip the railing behind her. She wanted to be sick, pressing her lips together and closing her eyes. There was no point trying to hide from him. She simply nodded once. “I shall... join you in a moment...”

Yet he did not turn. He simply stared, tilted his head, assessing his prey, before taking a step closer.

“I do not understand, Sif. Are you not happy for me?” Another step.

“Loki. Please...” She looked away, unable to face the smirk on his face and the hint of pride and joy at being able to make her squirm.

“After all, were you not the one who suggested Sigyn to me? That she would make a good wife?”

He was twisting her words, of that night months ago... when she had rejected his proprosal.

He had bared his soul, and she had said no. This was her fault. And yet... 

She looked down. “You are being cruel, Loki...” Her voice was quiet and she heard it as if very far away.

And suddenly he was in front of her, so close she forced herself back against the railing. His eyes were dark, his mouth twisted into a sneer. “Cruel? Then you must forgive me. I know the fair Lady Sif is unused to cruelty.” His voice was horribly quiet, yet he had no need to shout when his lips were at her ear. It was not a new sensation to her, his breath drifting over sensitive skin, and yet she was not used to the malevolent tone of his voice. 

“After all. She does not know how to break a man's heart. How to watch as they fall in love with her, as they hang on to her every word and live for every breath she takes.” His fingers grasped her wrist. “She would not be so brutal as to know they can only dream peacefully with her by their side, or how they wish to spend every night cradled within her arms... only to deny them.” His fingers trailed up her arm, ghosting over flesh. She shivered, biting her lip to stop the broken sob that threaten to escape. And yet his voice lost it's bitterness for a moment as he spoke again...

“She would never be so masochistic as to deny her own heart...”

He knew. He knew she loved him. She always had and she always would.

But to marry him. To give up all she had worked for, all she had denied her family for, to be forced back into that life she never wanted, of endless

She wasn't ready to do that. Not yet. Not even for him.

She was selfish. Too bloody self-righteous.

She met his gaze, finally, determined. “I am sorry...” She said with as much convinction as she could find.

And, just as she expected, his face split into a wide grin. He laughed.

No. That was not fair. She spoke again. 

“Do you love her?”

That made him stop. She raised her chin and forced him back a little. He glared at her.

“What?”

“Do you love her?”

A pause. A long one, her chest heaving with the exertion of forcing herself to stay still, to not run away and hide from the whole bloody mess. The air crackled and she knew he was one second away from slamming her against the railing. And she from hitting back...

He surged forward, and Sif tensed, not expecting to feel his lips crash into hers. She had long thought she would never feel his kiss again and the shock kept her still for a moment. But he had always been able to coax her, knew just how to make her respond and whimper against him. It as not long before she relaxed, hands gripping his arms tightly and returning the brutal kiss. 

He commented once that it was fitting for her to make love as she made war...

He broke apart just as suddenly, leaving both of them gasping for air, lips bruised and swollen. She could hardly think and barely heard him when he spoke once more.  
“Never. I will never love her. My heart is yours. And if you decide to dash it against the rocks then that is your bidding. I have found I am perfectly capable of surviving without it...”

He grinned. The trickster grin.

Sif gritted her teeth, before asking a question she already knew the answer to. “Then why...”

“Why marry her? Why, I am a prince, Sif. I am expected to marry a highborn lady of the court. Perfectly skilled in all the womanly arts.” She glared and his grin grew, shrugging a little as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“And I want to hurt you...”

Sif gasped, unable to contain herself. He frowned, stepping closer once more. “What? You think you have the upper hand hear, Sif? You think you are the one being wronged? You are more of a fool than you look if you think that, and you never knew me at all if you do not think I am above revenge...”

Sif swallowed tightly, searching his gaze. And then she saw. He was gone. There was no hint of the man she loved there anymore. She had never denied that bitterness that was etched on his heart but she thought once, naively perhaps, that she would be able to see he was more than his hurt...

Until she had twisted that knife in herself.

And Sif had never missed a target.

She pushed him back forcefully, receiving a small bitter chuckle for her trouble, as if he were playing with her.

“Very well. You have played your joke, Loki. She is perfect for you. A little girl who hangs onto your every word and will follow every order you throw at her. That is always want you wanted, wasn't it? Someone to stoke your ego.”

To her surprise, he did not rise to it. “Indeed. She will be a wonderful wife. Thor has his mortal. And I have the perfect princess.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek and she flinched. Visably. Another laugh. 

“You have changed...” she whispered.

“And you have changed me,” he countered. “You always have. The only one capable. And what happens now...” And he stepped closer once again, a ironclad grip on her arm that made her gasp. “What happens now will be entirely your fault. Never forget that.” 

And he is gone, leaving her gasping once more. Lost in a billow of green and the dark of the shadow. 

No. She would not forget.

And it would destory her...


End file.
